Hello, Farrah....
It's 7Am here, and cold
Just awoke, with,
Oh, Here We Go Again!
Fever, Pain, Confusion,
And Lots of Other Groovy Things
To Keep My Mind Busy...
Many more people know of you
than a few days ago....
Did you ever hear of Rod Mckuen?
Professional poet/ musician/songwritter-
One of the reasons I love poetry...
Not only will you understand him, you should
enjoy him.....Sorry about your work load....
My French is rusty.....I'm pretty good in geometry though;
received 100% on NYS Regents Exam when young-
an unheard of thing, scores in college of 97-99% for the term's work,
and it seemed easy as pi (joke- pie, etc....oh, why am I explaining it,
sorry, I forgot who I was talking to.......) Hope you have a happy day.....write an
indepth poetic bio?? I'd love it, so would many others....
you are known in literary circles here now, I'd venture to guess....
surprising, the power of words, n'est pas? Je ne sas pa, rien du tout....pardon
my spelling and french......it's unused since early 1960's (ancient history) What
city are you in? Ever travel??? A favorite destination??? Any questions about
the enigmatic nature of "Americans?" We're really well meaning, just sometimes
seems we might misinterpret, or misunderstand things obvious to others (and
vica versa....) Do you get to see movies??? Need books to read?? I got a library
of 10,000 books, at least, being handicapped gives me too much time on my
hands, and my health leaves me precious little of a future to expect. I have lots
of funny stories. I hope you are okay....I never met anyone so brilliant in 57 years
of living. Youf friend in poetry, tom."

You see my face and you see my expression but you don't know the real me that i'm
protecting.
You don't know that behind these eyes that a little girl cries every night, you
don't know the half so why are you desperately trying to label me with some brand that I
would never wear.
If you'd look a little deeper into these pearly browns you know that I am not just a
cover you have to take time to read the book to really know me.
You can't just skim the back or listen to what other people say because yeah I might
be talked about but unless you dip into the pudding you will never truly know why.
Maybe if you looked a little deeper you'd see someone trying to keep up in a endless
race.
I keep on moving but it's never any good I guess I underestimate myself or maybe I
just need someone to give me courage.
I see the surprised look on your face and all I can do is laugh, I bet you didn't
think that I had so much depth, I better you never realized.
So even if it's not me your interested in, please let me teach you one lesson. You
can see some much more behind the eyes of a girl than the cloud of makeup hiding her
face.
In a girls eyes you can see her insides, her deepest fears, her insecurities.
Behind these eyes is the magical side, and if you can look into them first then I know
that your confident and well worth the struggle.

Dam girl when Im locked up you set me free/
When Im not myself you set me free/
Im behind the lock and you got the key/
Im blind with hate but you helpmy love see/
WhenIm lot and alone you take the lead/
Without you I could have never planted my seed/
I hate to say it but you make me better/
You know I love you even without this letter/
When Im cold with sadness you my comfort warm sweater/
I know I can be a bad boyfriend but Im going to be a better father/
I might have wanted a son, but it really didnt matter because now you having my daughter/
Im guess Im too stubborn girl with me why you even bother/
my heart gets heart gets colder but for you it only gets hotter........

Two people have broken their friendship ties because of either a disagreement or he or she has found out that his/her boyfriend/girlfriend had an affair with his or her best friend of one too many years. This type of betrayal has taken its toll on all people since day one. It seems that this friendship wasn't enough for him or her, especially when this guy chose this girl over her best friend and this girl has chosen this guy over his best friend. Why these people aren't best of friends anymore is because for one, his girlfriend or her boyfriend cheated on him or her with his or her best friend and for two, they've gotten themselves in a lot of compromised situations. It breaks the hearts of every human being just thinking about it. He or she, of all people, should know that they've been the best of friends since kindergarten and/or elementary school. So now that these people are no longer friends, thereby being "ex-best friends," I guess he or she has no choice but to move on with their lives. These people have broken ties from each other, eventually trying to rebuild them. But even if he or she has betrayed his or her best friend, one should be seriously forgiven for all the misdeeds he or she's done: trying to take his or her girlfriend or boyfriend, leaving him or her hanging, everything. These two people are best friends and they're all they've got. But the sad thing about two people being ex-best friends is that not only are they not talking to each other anymore, they've humiliated each other publicly and personally. So, if that's the way these two people want it and they want to cut off communication with each other, well, then two ex-best friends (guys and girls) have no choice but to wish them the best of luck and hoping that they'd forgive each other in the near future.

When it comes to making friends from the South, it's like everybody's welcomed in their
communities. But when it comes to being with a bunch of attractive Southern belles, that's
so awesome. she's got plenty of style and a lot of beauty to have blossomed. A Southern
belle is as attractive and beautiful as any other woman in America, especially that of a
white-Caucasian girl from the West coast or the Midwest or any other girl possible. What's so great about these
Southern belles is that of her soft skin and her beautiful smile. And if this Southern
belle was a blonde or a brunette, I'd tell her how awesome she looks and I'd declare my
love for her. These Southern belles have made the south very interesting and it makes a
guy wanting to go down there to have been with her. Of course these belles are religious
and whatnot, but that doesn't stop us guys from telling them how beautiful they look,
trying to impress these girls from the South. And when dating a beautiful Southern belle,
it's like going to a Sadie Hawkins dance in either Birmingham, Alabama, Biloxi,
Mississippi, Savannah, Georgia, or Cameron, North Carolina. Everybody's going to get a lot
of Southern hospitality in these parts of America and the city guys and the country girls
will be having one heck of a good time. It seems that the young women from the South
really have a thing for us city guys and stuff. And for when I begin to date a Caucasian
Southern girl, it will be like love at first sight. Not only do most guys each have a
thing for a bunch of attractive Southern girls, I also have a thing for Southern girls,
especially the ones from Alabama, Louisiana, Missouri, and Tennessee. Now I know why I love all beautiful,
attractive Southern girls; they're beautiful and pretty, especially that of a bleach
blonde belle. And if this relationship works out with a Southern belle, that would be
great for us city guys.

Loving a bleach blonde white girl will be the best thing that has ever happened to me. My love for a white girl will always be stronger than ever. It seems that I've got real feelings for this girl. The fact that day in and day out, for the rest of my life, the only thing I want to tell this white girl is that I really love her. Looking into the eyes of this beautiful, attractive white girl is like looking at a pair of priceless gems or expensive diamonds worth $385,000. And when I look at her face, it's like looking at a beautiful angel right in the eyes. When it comes to loving a bleach blonde white girl, I want to be her black knight and shining armor. And when it comes to falling so seriously in love with a white girl, I must protect her from real danger, especially that of a bunch of womanizing jerks. Not only do I not want this beautiful white girl to go through any more drama in her life, I don't want to break her heart, either. Right now, I see this white girl as my best friend, my would-be, possible girlfriend, my future wife, and the mother of my children. If this beautiful white girl had a nicer, gentler black guy like me in her life, I promise not to ever cheat on her with any other girl, even if she's as attractive as this girl is. I don't want her beauty to go to waste. And if me and this white girl were to be together and stay as a loving couple for the rest of our lives, that would be great for the both of us.

A smooth and soft,
A cheerful and lovely,
Like a red rose,
Her smile was knocking,
My conscientious
That was toxicating,
And mind likes to talk,
As she was a toy girl.
Praising for her new dress,
Her jewellery and appearances,
Her walking steps,
Started to palpitate,
A fly with my dreams,
As a butterfly,
Enjoying fragrance,
In a warmth glimmering world.

A girl of my choice is way too hard to find. Every time I see an attractive girl, I keep finding out that she already has a boyfriend or is happily married to her husband and has children with the guy. It breaks my heart just thinking about it. It seems that I'm trying way too hard. Maybe I'm looking too hard for this special someone. It also seems that I'm not good enough for any of the girls of my choice, let alone one girl who's about my age. Now that all of the good, attractive ones have been taken by random guys, I'm reduced to nothing. I should've met those girls by choice sooner rather than later. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, and no matter how many times I have to reach out to those girls from my past or whatever, I couldn't give her some St. Valentine's Day presents, let alone red roses, I couldn't ask her out on a date, I'm barely dealing with the fact that these girls each have boyfriends or happily married, and I've been rejected one too many times. I should be in a serious relationship with a girl of my choice and trust, I shouldn't spend Saturday nights in total boredom. But the fact that one of the girls I was interested in is with a guy who's way more attractive than I am makes me very sick. And no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, it's just not enough for any of them. And since I have no girlfriend of my choice, even one of them outside my race, I'm forced to spend the rest of my life in solitude alone; thereby remaining in a real, depressive state. And every time I see a loving couple, it makes me depressed and they shove it right in my face. It's like someone had taken a butcher knife, plunged in in my chest, and yanked my heart out, killing me in an instant. I can't bear to handle this type of rejection. Well, I might as well die a virgin because there's just no point of me dealing with the fact that these girls are either happily married or already in multiple serious relationships with their current boyfriends. Being lonely and depressed and not having a female companion of my choice to talk to on a Saturday night is sad, and it's definitely pathetic. How legitimately disappointing. If I don't find me a girlfriend of my choice and I don't get married on time before my 25th or 30th birthday, I'm going to die a virgin. When will all of the rejection and the torment end? When will I stop being lonely and depressed? When will I ever learn?

That feeling you get,
When it rains & you
wet,
that feeling you feel,
when you want to write
but you want to give up
cuz nothing at all
is good enough not at
all
to be put on that sheet
of paper.
That feeling you get,
when no word in your
poem,
Brings about a
beautiful rhyme,
staying up late,
like you got late
for a date,
and its too late,
to go back and not be
late,
so you stay up late,
like trying to fix a
broken past,
it's impossible like you cant
count dust
its impossible it's past
its gone it is past.
staying up late
for the sake of paper
and pen,
for the sake of poetry,
just to write and feel it,
that sense of
accomplishment,
that you are a poet too,
Like those great poets
you read of.
Staying up late,
for the sake of Poetry.

This type of love have been in the lives of all children (boys and girls) for some time to
come. It's been like that since the day the kids started going to camp and elementary
school. It seems as though that when a little boy had fallen in love with a little girl or
the other way, their hearts start to beat, they're getting this emotional feeling in their
ribs, thoughts rushing tn their brains, and that kinda stuff. It will have looked like
that their parents will have know that their kids were in love with each other, even from
the beginning. There's been a lot of young relationships that have begun back in
elementary school and at summer camp, especially when one little boy had met one little
girl when they were participating in a lot of camping activities (kayaking, e.g.). But
what's so great about a lot of long-term relationships most of all is when this boy and
this girl are talking to each other on the phone on a Saturday night. This type of young
love among children from around the world is starting to look like the movie, "Little
Manhattan" with Josh Hutcherson. It's also as if this was a real fairy tale. Sometimes,
some relationships among kids don't last long, but some of them do. And when it comes to
these kids-before-teenagers falling in love with each other, there is such thing as love
at first sight. Love follows all of the children everywhere they go; it exists. Their
parents will have gotten this funny feeling inside, especially when they were supposed to
know what their lives were like as children when they met and fell in love. Let's hope
everybody knows that young love exists. Let's also hope that the parents know that their
children are in love with each other. And if this type of young love continues to grow and
grow and grow day in and day out, their hearts will never be broken in the near future.
Let's hope they stay together forever.

thanks for the tea, heres something about me
nothing beats poetry, sitting underneath a tree
thankin' my family for a strong identity
people watching cause its free, beauty in the scene
has me staring with a cheese, a smile at what i see
possibly a dream, caught up mentally
imagining a few things, with this human being
who has the sweetest energy, soulfood like collard greens
all fools falling means I'm really dumber than I seem
being intelligent isn't just from memory
its handling impermanence light and sensibly
and lady I'm feeling your sultry melodies
we'd be crowded if its three, sit and be my company
must be a chemistry major cause the reactions meant to be
the love we can achieve, is safe from any thieves
hold em from my queen, hearts tucked into my sleeve

There once was a girl named Ana,
Who loved to eat ice cream and banana,
THen her treat did disappear,
And Ana shed some tears,
Everyone felt bad for Ana Banana,
There once was a boy named Peter,
Who was known as the school's best cheater,
One day he was caught,
And detention he got,
Everyone felt bad for Peter the Cheater.
There once was a boy named Michael,
Who had a new motorcycle,
He went on a ride,
And fell off the side,
Everyone felt bad for Michael.
There once was a girl named Fina,
WHo dreamed she was a ballerina,
She would gracefully twirl,
Until she could hurl,
Everyone felt bad for Fina.

You wanna know why I read?
I read because books are my escape.
I read because the friends I have in books are so much truer than the friends I have in real life.
I read because in books I am as breathtakingly beautiful as the heroine in the story and not a one-hundred-thirty-three pound white girl with a black girl’s ass.
I read because the stories are either so good, I can try to wish myself into them
Or they’re so horrid they make my life look like a fairytale.
You wanna know why I read?
I read because the parents in books don’t yell at me for failing a test that I stayed up until 1 in the morning studying for
Or tell me I’m getting cellulite when its clear that I already hate the way I look.
I read because the little brothers and little sisters in books are adorably hilarious where mine are annoyingly bothersome.
I read because when my nose is in a good book, my mind is where that book is, not in the reality that is my life.
I read because the boys in books are more kind to me than the boys in my classes at school.
You wanna know why I read?
I read because I love to read.
But you wanna know why I don’t read?
I don’t read because reading is shameful in the world I live in.
I don’t read because reading is something tedious, a chore you do simply to make the grade in English.
I don’t read because the stories in books remind me just how much my life sucks.
You wanna know why I don’t read?
I don’t read because every page I turn is another homework assignment not turned in, another failing grade to show my parents.
I don’t read because every time I read I want a snack to munch on, and every time that snack is a chocolate bar I think to myself “You fat, ugly girl, you don’t need that chocolate, you know what they say: a moment on the lips a lifetime on the hips.”
I don’t read because what boy wants a girl whose prince charming is not ever going to show up on her front porch with a dozen roses and a devastatingly handsome smile?
You wanna know why I don’t read?
I don’t read because every time I finish a book that was a new obsession, I have to find one just like it and there never is one.
I don’t read because when the hero dies, so does a piece of my heart.
I don’t read because every book I read just reminds me that I’m the freak brainiac of my class, and that’s all anyone sees when they look at me.
I don’t read because the perfect characters in books make me hate my imperfect self.
I don’t read because I hate to read.

Don’t get caught up in the game
Don’t get caught up in the fame
It will drive you insane
It’s only you to blame
When you get caught up in the game*Refrain:
Because you walk through the crowd
They all know your name
The road twists and twists
With a surprise each turn
Try to stay above it all or you’ll soon learn
That the eyes looking in are hungry for your blood
Don’t mistake it for the love
Cause they all want a piece
Of the music, rhythm, and soul
They love the Rock n Roll
Then there’s the girl who writes the rhymes
Loves the love and soon you’ll find
Her spirit is so real and her sex appeal
I know you feel
The fire that burns from the words she writes to you
It’s a powerful heat that makes your heart feel new
She loves the melody you put in her soul
It warms her heart, it makes her whole
Her spirit soars so high
When you look into her eyes
The fire is so hot between the girl and this rock n roll guy
Don’t get caught up in the game
Don’t get caught up in the fame
It will drive you insane
It’s only you to blame
When you get caught up in the game

Here I am,
trying to push juice
on the nakedness of paper,
trying to rev up
the tip of my tool.
Ink. Words. My hand.
Nothing.
Nothing is born.
My spirit cries,
and mourns over the missed muse.
My little girl mocks me, she says,
"So you thought you were a writer?
Where is your book?
Where are your fans?"
Come on, artist that hides
in her cluttered closet
of secrets and sins.
Smoke another cigarette.
Think more of why
you're such a mess.
Nothing is born.
And to be reborn seems
a million years away.
I was once shivering in warm water
while the warm tears stained my face.
I went under, the crowd applauded my new found hope.
I raised my hand in the air and shouted His name,
for He gave me a fresh start.
But it never stopped me from falling
to the bottom of a blood-clogged rig.
It never washed away
the doom and despair.
Was it real?
Then there was the night
that I sat up in my bed
during the witching hour.
I felt His hand upon my breast,
shielding the heart that pounded within,
tattooing His name.
I remember the warm tears again.
I remember my smile,
for I felt His light radiate upon my face.
I heard him for the first time.
All was sound.
I was loved deeply, so deeply
that it hurt.
I was granted the biggest gift
a sad girl like me could ever receive,
for He knew my sorrow.
More would come as I entered a new place inwardly.
Then came the night
that He shook my body, and had His way.
Amazing.
Unforgettable.
It was real.
Something was born.

When I fall in love with a white girl, I won't flee; I'll know what I'm doing. My love for
a white girl is so powerful, so strong, it makes me wanting to get more of them. A white
girl's beauty is blooming like a dozen of red, yellow, white, and pink roses, especially
by day and by night. She's the sun that shines daylight, the moon that rises at night, and
my shining star. Not only is this beautiful white girl very attractive, she's also
awesome, she's nice, kind, and not judgmental, at all. A white girl is the angel of life
and she's the best thing that has ever happened to me. When I look into her eyes (brown,
olive green, ocean blue, or hazel) they shine like a pair of expensive gems worth $80,000.
And when I see a white girl's smile, it's like an attractive angel is smiling down on me.
Whether she's either short or tall and blonde or brunette, a white girl's still beautiful
inside and out. But I can tell that this white girl is really angry. I can also tell that
she's crying inside and out. The only reason why I care about a white girl's well-being is
because I don't want her to go through all of the pain and suffering. With that much
beauty in a real white/Caucasian girl, not only would I not want her beauty and love to go
to waste, I don't want to take her for granted, either. The reason why I'm in love with a white girl
because she's beautiful, she's smart, and I love her. If this white girl had a nicer,
gentle black guy like me in her life, she wouldn't have to worry about anymore drama that's going on
in her life. And if we become boyfriend and girlfriend in the near future, things will
never be the same.

Deficient air I breathe in my lungs
In this world now I live, daddy's are careless
The children feeling helpless
Mother's have to play two characters
All I can see is the tears
That flow down their cheeks
Why am I disrespected by the one's who I look up to
I stick with my boys, because I never understood
Why girls constantly hate each other
I'm just a youthful girl in cold war
I'm constantly going through it
misjudgment and jealousy constantly bothering me
I'm just a youthful girl at cold war
Trying to fit in is so called being cool
Its just another word for being someone else fool
If they smoke, dislikes him or her
Then that person does the same
Now its all eyes on me so I have to go along too
Since I look at life at a different angle
I chose to go my own way
If my clothes ain't tight then he isn't going to like me
Being nice it's just a bad finish in the end
I guess I come last, some still say I'm just stuck in my past
As much as my pulverized heart been through
I learned to put off love as it corker, belittlement, and depressed me for years
I'm just a youthful girl in cold war
I'm constantly going through it
misjudgment and jealousy constantly bothering me
I'm just a youthful girl at cold war

The girl that inspired me, she came into my work yesterday
The girl had long hair and a smile of grace
Her words were soft and proper like artwork of the mind
Her advice was amazing and right
Her advice was merely her story
The girl had a face and it read clear
Oppertunity knocked and I was always here
I saw the doors open through my life over and over, and when I finally looked straight ahead
And over the next hill
And above the rolling waters
And inside my heart of dreams I came into the reality
That my time has been well spent and again I will be on my path
Like the girl
I cant wait to thank her
-Jess

Do i know a poet called Suzi
No, but i know a Deborah Guzzi
Her poems are great, well worth the wait
All poetry she reads, she's not choosy
The Limerick Game..Carrie Richards has been tagged!!!
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/humour.php

poets, poems,and poetry,
they seem to be just words
all about love, lovers and pain
about fillings of a boy or of a girl
a time,or a place just somewhere
taking you to the highest of all highs
after drying your tears from being low
heart felt paragraphs written from with in
gut wrenching letters no longer able to hide
they are mask we hide behind to not be seen
they are our dreams,our hopes,and our wishes,
pain from a dark side that made us cry and weep
nightmares of a past we can't let go of,show,or tell,
they are of mothers,fathers,brothers sisters,& family
ones we lost,wished we had are wish were still alive
they are about kids and how they warm us with a smile
how they grew into people we always wanted them to be
even wrote of the ones we lost in death, to drugs,or just life
they help to remove the sadness we carry deep down inside
to say I love you when we can't I miss you when we are unable
to speak our minds for being politically correct here isn't a must
so a man can write instead of saying those words I sat and cried
so a woman could wish for love to find her before shes old and gray
are a young boy can tell of puppy love and the girl who lives next door
how a school girl can speak of her first crush,her first kiss,or just boys
we all have something deep down inside that we won't even think let out
to say how we really fill what we really want are how we want this love to be
and here we found away we write,.pour out our hearts,our minds,our passion
these are writes we don't want others to see,writes we want are love ones to read
words we put on paper like tears to a tissue they mean so much to us as you can see
they are all steps we take,from here to there to find and release......poets,poems,poetry.

Sometimes I take material that is not a poem
and then I rewrite it and make it my own.
Below is a FWD that I once reveived.
What follows after is how I turned it to poetry.
*

Due to a power outage, only one paramedic responded to the call. The house was very dark so the paramedic asked Kathleen, a 3-yr old girl to hold a flashlight high over her mommy so he could see while he helped deliver the baby. Very diligently, Kathleen did as she was asked. Heidi pushed and pushed and after a little while, Connor was born. The paramedic lifted him by his little feet and spanked him on his bottom. Connor began to cry. The paramedic then thanked Kathleen for her help and asked the wide-eyed 3-yr old what she thought about what she had just witnessed. Kathleen quickly responded, 'He shouldn't have crawled in there in the first place.......spank his butt again!"

*
The emergency call reached the paramedic. A baby was about to be born.
He could hardly see through his windshield, as he battled the raging storm.
A 3 year old girl greeted him at the doorway allowing him to enter her home.
She took him by the hand and said, "This way doctor man,"
and then led him to her Mommy's room.
It was a very dark night,
so he asked the child to hold his flashlight
so he could assist the baby from leaving its mother's womb.
He held the baby by its legs and spanked its little bottom.
The baby cried and a new life was born.
With great concern the paramedic asked the young child,
"How do you feel about what you just saw?"
"He should have never crawled up there in the first place," she said,
"You should spank him again once more."

The ebony pencil marks up the ivory paper
It's silent strokes fill the page
With hopes of a better portrait
Than the girl was given to begin with.
Its strokes collectively make up the face of a girl
A face of pure skin and pouty lips
Perfect in idea
And perfect in the image of the girls mind.
Shimmering hair reaches for the girls back
As it grasped to her perfect scalp
The tiny strands fill the head of the girl in the picture
Like a JEWELIZED crown upon a beauty queens head.
A slender figure fills the page
The limbs reaching for her sides
The snake like fingers perfect for the hold of a man
While her hips and chest plaster themselves
In the perfect hourglass shape.
The dark skies fill her vacant eyes
As they search your soul for the truth
And allow you to see her passionate soul.
The eraser covers any imperfection
As it gently glides over each mistake
With skin perfect
And eyes so beautiful no man can resist her.
She is perfection at its best
She is exactly what every man dreams
She's a self-portrait
Made by a broken girl and shattered soul.
She is what the artist wished to be.
She is what I wish to be.

I'm a rhyming girl
It's what I'm all about
If you read my other poems
you'll surely have no doubt
Like The Cat In The Hat
I am what I am
But you can bet for certain
my name's not Sam
While I'm lying in my bed
the rhymes keep popping
in my head
While I'm working or just about,
the rhymes keep flowing,
they make me want to shout,
"I'm a rhyming girl
it's what I'm all about
if you read my other poems,
you'll surely have no doubt."